Bad Decisions

When You Move, You Make My Oceans Move Too

Ch 15, Seb's POV
Content warning: *pornhub music* Heads up, it's Sebastian so prepare yourself.

As usual, Sebastian could not sleep.

It was not restless energy. He had nothing to be restless about. It didn't matter that Ella was just down the hall, in his house. It wasn't like she hadn't slept in the room next to his the entire time in the tent. He'd even slept on the floor beside the bed she was in and it had been a nonissue. Could have been the results of the adrenaline, or the anger still simmering away at him that Anne and Ella had gotten hurt and he'd had no way to really put a stop to it.

So, it was definitely not restless energy.

Since he couldn't sleep for an unknown and pointless reason, he decided he might as well occupy his time. The wards needed attention, and that became the most pressing matter at hand around an hour before he finally gave in and pulled the singular book from the cellar. The cellar, where all of the unsavory books in the Sallow collection were kept, and where his parents had died.

Sebastian had read The Lost Profane Art of Blood Magic exactly twice in his life. A rare book, he was almost afraid to touch it. It shouldn't have even still been in the cellar. After his dad's death and the end of his position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, it should have been returned. It was nearly an extinct form of magic and the pages already felt brittle between his fingers.

It belonged behind glass if anything, but Sebastian was selfish and it might have been hidden under the bookshelf just so he could hold on to it.

He hadn't updated the wards in a long time, and he didn't trust himself to change them without a refresher.

It only took twenty minutes to breeze back through the chapter on warding with blood. He only had to be as specific as he'd been when he warded himself out and not Anne; still, tricky and a bit intimidating given it wasn't the most forgivable with mistakes. Sebastian didn't have enough of her blood to make any mistakes anyway, and the last thing he wanted to do was go knock on her—his parents'—bedroom door in the middle of the night to casually ask if he could have a vial of her blood. That wouldn't be terrifying at all, especially from someone like him.

The wards had specific costs for specific needs. He'd only had dried blood from her on his clothes the first time he'd used it, and it wasn't enough to block out everyone but just her. That was too dangerous given the current situation. But, now, he had an empty potion bottle in his nightstand with several drops of her blood rolling around in it. At least something decent came out of the entire ordeal.

He was fairly sure no one had noticed him slide the empty bottle against the scar on her arm. Before Anne drug her off to the bath.

It would cost him another year at least. What was he up to now? Four?

That was the problem with blood magic; it came with steep costs. More than nicks against his soul, it was years of his life. Or, at least, that's what the book in his lap said. Time stolen for protection borrowed.

All blood magic came with a price.

That was fine, though, he didn't plan to live the longest life anyway. What was another year?

Sebastian closed the book with a huff and shoved it under his bed. It was more of a knee-jerk reaction than a warranted precaution. Anne and Ominis knew what the wards were; he'd had to ask for their blood. Ella was a different story and he felt uncomfortable proposing it. So, he opted for the usual underhanded tactics.

He pushed himself off the bed; he still needed the unicorn blood for the longevity of the spell, but that was tucked away in the study. It'd been such a pain to get it. Ominis complained the entire time and then never let him hear the end of 'costing him a fortune' until he finally told him it was so Anne could feel safe—and then he hushed. It was fine if Anne cost Ominis a fortune.